Chapter 3

Yoshiko stepped off the plane and caught sight of the car waiting for her. She could sense Victor waiting for her within. The others got into the other cars, leaving her and Victor to their own devices. She closed her eyes once the door was closed. He fastened her seatbelt for her with his telekinetic abilities. His mind touched hers, pulling open a valve hidden even from herself, releasing the pressure within her and freeing her to express her grief.

Only pain had awaited her on her return to the village. The gaijin missiles had done their work well. The largest piece they'd managed to find had been an old man's penis pinned to a tree by shrapnel. She wished she could bring the agents responsible for the massacre back to life so she could kill them again--but more slowly this time. A swift death under her katana had been far too merciful for the likes of those pigs. Victor's mental touch gave her the strength to compose herself again.

Patience, Yoshiko. his voice said in her mind. You got the ones who carried out the attack. When the time is right, you will be given the perfect opportunity to strike back at the ones who planned it and gave the orders.

You know this? Yoshiko asked.

My sources are very reliable. With proper training, yours will be too.

I don't want us to go our separate ways, Victor. Yoshiko responded, sadly. There's nothing for me back in Japan. At least with you I can stop those bastards from doing this to someone else. Victor nodded, opening the glove compartment. Yoshiko found dossiers on several men, complete with sketches (she discerned two different styles in the drawings, and guessed that both of the Foundation's precogs had had a hand in assembling the data), names, dates and times of greatest opportunity, and in some cases, any phobias the targets had. A vindictive smile crossed Yoshiko's face when she saw that the new head of the Supernatural Threat Department was ninja phobic. Back at the hotel, Victor led her to the training area, where she found numerous robots--alloy endoskeletons sheathed in ballistics gel--waiting for her.

"Go ahead and vent. These things are completely recyclable." Victor said. Yoshiko smiled and went to change, returning in her fighting attire, swords already in hand. The robots were well-programmed, and their exotic fighting-style, combined with the shielding that prevented her telekinetic powers from being used directly against them, made them novel and challenging opponents.

So much the better.

The Foundation cafeteria was bustling with activity as usual when Howard walked in, since he didn't feel like cooking today. Besides, it was "soul food day."

"Your training's coming along very well, Howard." Inet said, appearing behind him in the line. Howard wondered how she managed to do that.

"Thank you, Mrs. Phillips." he said.

"You can call me Inet if you like." she responded.

"It's, uh, safer this way, ma'am." Howard told her. For someone who had recently given birth to an eight-pound baby, she was looking hot, especially in her form-hugging white dress cinched at the waist by a gold-colored belt.

"I am not without my defenses, Howard." she remarked with a smile. "I think you've earned some time off, and my husband agrees. You should spend the weekend with your parents." She picked up a portion of mashed potatoes with cream gravy and urged Howard forward in her kind and gentle way. They got their food, then parted ways, Inet joining Victor and Penelope in a corner booth, Howard joining his girls at a table near the soda fountain.

She wants you to go home for a reason, Howard. I can see it in her eyes, though her reasons are unclear. I could find out for certain, but I would have to probe harder than is usually allowed between allies. Kaede's mental voice was tinged with anxiety.

Nothing that needs a specific warning, or she would have given one. Howard responded, mentally caressing the entire group. His confidence soothed Kaede, who took up her chopsticks once more--thankfully, the potatoes were thick enough to make this feasible. Howard was thoughtful as he ate his lunch, and before he went back to training he called his mother to let her know he'd be coming home for the weekend. His mother was unusually effervescent, but at the same time, evasive and mischievous. Howard had a feeling that the weekend was going to bring a delightful surprise.

"Oh, my God!" Howard's mother enthused, wrapping her arms around her son. "You look great!"

"Thanks, Mom." Howard replied. He'd picked a snap-down shirt whose color brought out his eyes, and had gotten a haircut as soon as the stylist in Wal-Mart opened. His pants were comfortable, but lacked the holes he usually sported, and he'd gotten some nice shoes. He allowed his mother to pull him into the house, where his father did his best to squeeze his breakfast out through his ears. "Dad ... can't ... breathe." Howard grunted.

"Leave some for me, Mr. Farrell!" interjected a female voice. His father released him, allowing him to turn toward the sound. He found a diminutive but reasonably curvy frame sheathed in creamy, white skin and one of Howard's oversized T-shirts, topped by a river of straight, crimson hair with blonde highlights that suggested a lava flow, and piercing green eyes. There was a glad smile on the young woman's face, but it took Howard a minute to place her.

"Mandy?" he asked, and she ran into his arms. "Wow, Mandy, I haven't seen you in years! I thought you moved to Maine!"

"I did, but I came back." she said. There was anxiety hidden just under the surface, but he didn't have time to probe her just yet.

"Come on, son, the fish is almost ready. I made it just like you like it."

His father had indeed made the fish just like he liked it; crispy on the outside, flaky on the inside, with his favorite seasoned bread crumbs, hush puppies, generous amounts of tartar sauce and the best damn fries Howard had ever been treated to. Howard lay on his bed, recovering from over-indulgence. He awoke from a doze at the sound of Mandy entering his room. He beckoned her closer and she sat on the edge of the bed.

"How've you been?" she asked softly.

"All right. I've been really involved in working with a charitable foundation recently."

"I'd've thought you'd be a cop by now." she said with a smile. "The way you were always rescuing people back in intermediate school..."

"I'd step on the wrong toes trying to root out corruption." Howard replied. "Remember that time I blew the whistle on the school for selling the things the teachers confiscated? Oh, wait, you'd already moved away by then."

"Same old Howard, always trying to be a super-hero." She leaned down and lay beside him. "I hope it doesn't get you hurt, Howard."

"What brings you back to Texas?"

"You, sort of." she responded. "I mean ... well..." She closed her eyes, and Howard could sense her searching for a way to tell him. Her surface thoughts roiled like a lava pool on television, and Howard caught images of men in suits chasing her. There was fire, shooting, blood, fear and pain. She had been running for some time. He sat up and put his arms around her, holding her close. "Howard, I'm in trouble." Her whispered voice was full of fear. "I ... I have these weird powers, and there are all kinds of people who want to use them for their own ends."

"What kind of weird powers?" Howard asked. Mandy glared at the scented candle on his desk, and the wick caught fire--then the whole candle melted all over the plate it was sitting on and onto the desk itself, flooding the room with the scent of vanilla. He could feel the effort she was putting into stoppering the flow of power coming from her brain, and he added his own strength to help her out. She looked up at him in surprise. Luckily, the outpouring of kinetic energy had stopped. You don't have to be alone anymore, Mandy. he thought, projecting the thought to her. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled.

Then she began to cry. The time she had spent on the run from criminal syndicates and the government, not knowing who to trust, caught up with her in a wash of emotion. She didn't like a lot of what she'd had to do to survive. Howard reached out with his mind just enough to lock his bedroom door. Mandy rose slightly so she could kiss him, moaning with pleasure as Howard responded to her growing need. His hands caressed her body through her clothing, and her hands returned the favor. Then, he slipped his hands under the shirt, finding that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. A footnote floated to the surface of her mind about her own clothes not being fit to give to hobos. He thumbed the nipples of her small breasts, then pulled the shirt off her body and let it drop to the floor. His own clothes were piled on top of it, and then they were crawling under the covers, scarcely breaking off their kiss except when absolutely necessary. Her hands were on his cock, guiding it into the hot wetness of her vagina. She bit her hand to stifle her cries as her hips bucked forward, bringing him through her hymen quickly but not painlessly.